


The Name Game

by secondsodomites



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Almost Accidentally Flirty Credence, Anyways, BARELY ANY NEWT/TINA OKAY, Being Stupid, Cheeky Graves, F/M, Fluff, He's cheeky too, JUST, Kowalski's Bakery & Deli, M/M, Really this is dumb, This Is STUPID, kinda crack tbh, there, theyre just, two dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 17:30:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11514078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondsodomites/pseuds/secondsodomites
Summary: Credence first sees Graves at a bar.Two days later Graves waltzes into Kowalski's Bakery & Deli and shenanigans ensue.





	The Name Game

**Author's Note:**

> Um this is dumb. But it's okay, I like it. Also I skipped over parts where there should've been smut bc I can't write it but if anyone wants to,,,, I'd love that sm.
> 
> Enjoy this STUPIDITY

The man Credence sees in the dim lights of the loud bar haunts his dreams.

 

He’d gone out with Newt and Queenie, because Tina had to work and they didn’t, and the other two were desperate for something to do. Credence would have preferred staying in, but he supposes his opinion rarely counts. So, they’d gone to Matterhorn’s.

 

Newt stuck by him, because he wasn’t exactly a social butterfly either. When Credence had asked the real reason he’d come along, he just smiled sadly and shrugged a shoulder. “Sometimes Tina just needs some alone time. It’d be awful of me not to allow that.” Credence had put his hand over Newt’s and smiled. “You’re a good boyfriend. Don’t forget that, okay?” Newt smiled back, shrugging a little. “Okay.”

 

They’d sat back after that, watched Queenie dance and cheered her on. It was when Credence stood to go find the restroom that he saw him. Sitting in a booth with a pretty woman and a pinched-face man, smoking like he’s got no cares in the world. Even in the lighting, Credence could make out his slicked back, dark hair, sprinkled with silver at the sides, two little birthmarks under his left eye. His knees were spread apart, and he was casually lounging with an arm strung across the back of the booth. His thin lips were alternating from his cigarette to nursing a pretty green drink Credence never thought a man who looked like the aura of sophistication would enjoy.

 

Credence loves Grasshoppers.

 

The man was smirking at the pinched face man, saying something. Credence watched as the woman nudged him, whispering something. It wasn’t until the man met his eye that he realized he’d definitely been staring for at  _ least  _ three minutes, according to his watch. Dark eyes looked at him with something like curiosity.

 

So he got the hell out of dodge. He rushed back to Queenie, asked if they can go home, because wasn't it gonna be hell for Tina if she woke up as they stumbled in?

 

They'd gone, and Credence curled up in his bed in the apartment above theirs.

 

Now, every time he time he closes his eyes, it’s all he can do to think of anything other than being between those knees and making that man  _ fall apart  _ with his mouth.

 

Not having to work the next day is the best thing that’s happened in a while.

 

****

 

Credence finds himself very content with working at the bank. It’s a simple job, he talks to people enough to not feel like a recluse, and he gets to see the joy on little kid’s faces when he hands them a lollipop.

 

Saturday’s are the busiest. He doesn’t ever really mind the rush, but he finds his lunch break a welcome relief. Kowalski’s Bakery and Deli has exactly one occupant when he goes in and sits right at the counter, grinning at Jacob as he comes out with an order he didn’t even have to place. 

 

“Howdy, Credence. I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages,” Jacob says, sliding the plate in front of him. “It’s only been two days. Besides, you’ve been so busy with Queenie you barely have time for little old me anymore,” he jokes, biting into the delicacy that is Jacob’s toasted ham and cheese. “Oh, c’mon, you know I love you the best,” Jacob smirks, leaning over to ruffle his hair.

 

Credence's blush is a reflex before rolling his eyes. Before he can say anything, the bell above the door chimes and Jacob is looking mildly stunned. Raising an eyebrow, Credence turns to see-

 

_ Fuck.  _ **_Fuck._ **

 

The man from the bar, alone, looking as confident and suave as he had the other night, approaches the counter. 

 

He stops two seats away from Credence, who can’t help but watch as the man strains his neck to read the menu. “Hey, fella, how can I help you?” Jacob asks jovially, moving towards the register. The man steps back a bit, before turning to look straight at Credence.

 

_ Oh dear Lord. _

 

“I’ll have what he’s having.” he says firmly, in a deep voice that makes Credence’s gut twist in all sorts of ways. His face heats up some more. “Oh. Huh, alright. That’ll be three eighty,” Jacob says with what he suspects is mild confusion. The man nods, digging into his wallet and handing over a ten dollar bill. “Keep the change.” he says gruffly. 

 

Jacob’s eyebrows draw together. “Is it even  _ legal  _ to keep that much change?” he wonders out loud. “As a detective, I can assure you I have no reason to arrest you if you don’t give me my money back. We usually save that sorta thing for petty thieves.” the man says mordantly.

 

Credence can’t help the laugh he lets out, and quickly covers his mouth. “Huh. Thanks, mister.” Jacob says, the man’s sarcasm flying over his head. “You can call me Graves,” Graves says. Jacob nods once, before asking, “Is that an alias? Are you-” he leans closer, whispers loudly, “Undercover, detective?” 

 

Graves, who had also been leaning closer just to entertain the man, sits back up and nods once. “Yeah. Can’t have anyone blowing my cover,” he says seriously. Jacob nods quickly, mimicking zipping his lips, before heading into the kitchen. Graves turns to Credence with a look of slight  amusement. “You know I’m lying, I’d hope,” he says, and Credence finally dissolves into the fit of laughter he’d been holding back. 

 

“You’ll have to excuse me being so… playful. That was just too easy, really,” he continues. “I’ve never seen Jacob look so serious before,” Credence says with a shrug. “Well, I’m certainly going to have to start thinking up new names when I start coming in here. But for starters, what’s yours, so that I don’t expose myself?”

 

The quirk of his lips makes Credence smile, but it gives him an idea. 

 

“How about this,  _ Detective _ ? You come in here every day of the next week that you can, and use a different name.  _ If  _  by Friday you’ve managed to guess my name, I’ll tell you. If you haven’t, well. You’ll have to buy this nameless boy all the drinks he wants Friday night. I hear grasshoppers are expensive.”

 

He really,  _ really  _ doesn’t know where that came from. He’s not a flirtatious person. He wasn’t aware he knew how to flirt.

 

The grin on Graves’ face boosts his confidence a bit. 

 

“So, if I guess it, my prize is the knowledge of your name, if I don’t, I get to buy a pretty boy free drinks? Hell, you drive a hard bargain,” he says, drumming his fingers on the counter. Credence’s head hurts from the rushing of blood into his cheeks. “Yeah?” he asks, hoping it doesn’t sound squeaky. “Yeah. I think I’ll take you up on that.”

 

Credence ignores the pounding of his heart as Jacob rushes out. “Was that for here or to go?” he asks, dabbing at the sweat on his brow with a handkerchief. “To go, please.” 

 

He darts back into the kitchen and comes out with a neatly wrapped sandwich in a bag. 

 

Graves smiles, taking it from him. “Thank you, Mr. Kowalski. Have a nice day.” he says. “Same to you, Mister  _ Graves. _ ” he replies with a wink. Credence bites into his sandwich to hide his snort.

 

Graves turns to him. “Nice to see you again,” he says with a wink of his own, before walking out of the door and across the busy sidewalk. 

 

Credence can’t really think of a better day he’s had. 

 

Turning to Jacob, he tells him, “If he asks, do  _ not  _ tell him my name. I’m betting on drinks.”

 

Jacob looks confused when he leaves too. He can’t say he blames him.

 

****

 

Aragog’s Banking and Kowalski’s Deli and Bakery are both closed on Sunday’s, so Credence lounges around the Goldstein’s apartment. It’s a quiet day, until Jacob comes in and announces, “Credence has a boyfriend who won’t even tell him his real name! Credence won’t give him his, either!”

 

He sits up from where he was cuddling his little tabby, Kingsley, and scowls. “He isn’t my boyfriend!” he protests when four pairs of eyes are on him. Queenie smiles. “Was it that fella at the bar, Credence?”

 

He splutters over his words. “What? How did-you weren’t even-you were halfway across the bar!” Newt laughs from his armchair, where he and Tina have been snuggling and  reading. “You had that look on your face.” he explains. “ _ What  _ look?” he hisses. Tina grins from over her book. “Not to be crude, but the one you get you wanna fuck someone.” “Which is a definite  _ look. _ ” Jacob adds. “Had it written all over your mug yesterday.”

 

Turns out Credence is capable of a lot he didn’t know about. “Well. He isn’t my boyfriend. So.” he sniffs, laying back down and allowing Kingsley to curl up on his chest. “Is he cute?” Queenie asks a few minutes later, when he’s half-asleep and content. “God,  _ yes. _ ” he mutters without realizing it. Their fond laughter fills his ears and he smiles a little. He’s got a good family.

 

****

 

His nap lasted approximately four hours, so he didn’t get much sleep the rest of the night. Running off of coffee and the off chance he might see Graves again is the only thing that prevents him from calling in.

 

The day is a slow one, so when one-thirty rolls around, he clocks out and practically runs to Jacob’s. 

 

The man gives him a knowing grin. “You seem like an eager beaver.” “Yeah, well, you seem like you didn’t wake me up so now I’m suffering, so shut up.” he grumbles. “Jesus, that didn't even make  _ sense _ .” Jacob just laughs before going into the kitchen. Laying his head down on the counter, he closes his eyes and lets himself drift for a bit. 

 

When he opens them, he hears, “I have many different aliases, Mister Kowalski. Today I’m Matthew.”

 

_ Seriously? Do I  _ **_look_ ** _ like a Matthew? _

 

He sits up and rubs his eyes, hoping he doesn’t have creases on his cheek. Jacob is retreating into the kitchen  and Credence gives Graves and incredulous look. “Matthew?” he croaks. “Seriously?” Graves looks a little put-off. “Well, it seemed like an obvious choice at the time.” he says with a slight pout that makes Credence want to kiss the fuck out of him.

 

“Well, one point for me, ‘cause I’m decidedly not a Matthew.” Credence snorts, taking a bite out of his sandwich. “I'm glad, frankly. You don't look like a Matthew.”

 

Graves settles beside him in companionable silence before asking, “You have a rough night?” Credence swallows down toasted cheese before shrugging. “I took a nap with my cat yesterday afternoon, which made last night a conscious one,” he explains. 

 

“A cat?” Graves grumbles in disgust. “A little tabby. My friend, he's a veterinarian, he found him last month with a broken hip. He's recovering though. His name is Kingsley.” Credence says proudly. 

 

“I hate cats. Vicious little creatures. Huge assholes.”

 

And because Credence is a fucking half-asleep  _ idiot,  _ he asks cheekily, “Why are you looking at cat's assholes?” 

 

By the time he realizes what's he's said, Graves is literally snorting with laughter. 

 

_ That's so fucking cute.  _

 

“I suppose I had that coming. Though, it's not the cat's asshole I'm interested in.”

 

_ Well.  _ **_Shit._ **

 

“That's good news. Didn't wanna go out for drinks with a guy who jacks it to cat's assholes instead of porn. That'd be the worst date of my life.” he says matter-of-factly. “Trust me, there's no jacking it to a cat's asshole going on in the privacy of my home,” Graves assures him with a wide grin as Jacob returns with his packaged sandwich. 

 

“Here ya go,  _ Matthew.  _ Have a good one.”

 

Graves nods, then looks at Credence. “Oh, by the way. Thanks for letting me know it'll be a date. Though, I doubt we'll be going on one under  _ your  _ conditions.”

 

He leaves.

 

Credence is wide awake when he goes back to work. 

 

****

 

Tuesday finds Credence Barebone as chipper as can be. 

He gives a crying girl three lollipops just to make her smile, and her dad, who is considerably less attractive than Graves, but attractive nonetheless, smiles at him and says he's a good guy. Credence smiles back and gives him a lollipop too.

 

Lunch seems to sneak up on him. He doesn't realize he's off the clock until his watch chimes.

 

He takes his time getting there. Jacob's probably sick of him scaring away all his other, better paying customers. 

 

He also finds he doesn't care. 

 

There are six patrons besides himself, which is quite a lot in the small space. He sits outside on the bright pink bench and tries not to fondly smile like a creep. There's hints of Queenie everywhere in Jacob's life. 

 

God. Imagine being  _ that  _ into someone. 

 

The first fifteen minutes of his break is spent lounging and watching people filter out. The last one, to his surprise, is Graves. With two bags hanging on his wrist. 

 

“Graves!” he says scrambling up so it looks as if he  _ totally _ wasn't slouching like Quasimodo. “Oh, hello. I was just looking for you,” Graves smiles, holding out a bag. “You… were?” “I asked Mister Kowalski where you worked, figured you might not have been able to make it.” he shrugs. 

 

Credence just stares blankly. 

 

“You-oh. Did he tell you my name?” he blurts, ignoring the fact that he's blushing for the millionth time this week. “Almost. Couldn't drag it out of him, though.” Graves says, sounding crestfallen. “He's a good man. But, um, you really didn't have to-”

 

“I wanted to. You wanna walk?” Graves holds out his arm. Credence stares at it like there's six hands on the end of it. 

 

_ Oh god, brain, can you please  _ **_stop_ ** _ imagining why six hands would be useful.  _

 

“Yeah, uh, sure. I have like, forty minutes of lunch left,” he overshares. He begins walking, until he realizes Graves isn't following. “What, you aren't going to take my arm? I'm being gentlemanly, my nameless dear,” Graves teases. 

 

Credence suspects it'd be pushy, had it been anyone else. But from Graves, it's just a jest. 

 

“So gentlemen enjoy cat's asshole?” he quips right back, sliding his arm through the loop Graves is making. “You aren't going to forget that, are you?” Graves groans. “Absolutely not. My cat is great, and you disrespected him. When you meet him, you'll see.”

 

The older man looks extremely amused at that. “Alright. At least I know his name, it's much easier to talk to him that way.” “Oh, now you're a cat whisperer?”

 

The banter goes back and forth easily, Credence notes. He and Graves share a similar, sardonic sense of humor that's just shy of dark and bitter.

 

It's refreshing. 

 

“So, what alias did you use today?” he asks eventually as they're turning back. 

 

Graves looks sheepish. 

 

“Colin.” he mutters. “God, Colin's such a  _ you  _ name.” Credence laughs. “Oh? You think?” “I mean. Yeah, actually. But no, I'm no Colin. Sorry, big guy.”

 

He thinks he hears something like, “I'll show  _ you  _ a big guy,” but he's not sure he was meant to. 

 

By the time they part ways in front of Jacob's, it hits Credence he didn't even open the bag. 

 

When he does, he finds a slip of paper with nine digits scrawled on it and a toasted ham and cheese.

 

****

 

Bursting into the Goldstein's living room Wednesday afternoon, he yells for Queenie. 

 

She steps out of the kitchen. “Hey, honey! What's up?” He goes over to Kingsley’s cage and picks him up, letting him scoot up his arm until Credence helps him balance on his shoulder. 

 

Moving carefully, he shoves the slip of paper at Queenie. “He gave me this yesterday! And what if I was supposed to  _ call  _ him? I didn't! I panicked! What if he isn't there today because he's mad?” 

 

Queenie takes the slip, studies it, then reaches up to thump Credence. “Ow.” he whines. Kingsley meows in his defense. “Doll, tell me, was Jacob lying when he said you two was walking around like a couple yesterday? Did this detective of yours buy you lunch and try to bring it to you?” she asks, scratching Kingsley's head. 

 

“Um. No, he wasn't lying. And, uh, yes. He may have,” he mumbles, feeling like an idiot school boy. 

 

Queenie grins. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “Then I doubt you'll have a problem. Now, get ready to go out for lunch, because I'm going with you before I have to go to work. This mysterious detective isn't passing my inspection if I haven't met him!” she says wisely, going to slip on her flats. 

 

He runs upstairs to grab his wallet, and they make their way to 16th Street. 

 

There's seven people in the bakery today, including Graves, who, upon Credence seeing him, makes his stomach flip. 

 

“That's him,” he says, nodding towards the man at the counter. Queenie's eyes light up immediately. “Gosh, Credence. He's real cute!” she declares, shoving her way inside. He flinches a little as she takes a seat next to the smirking detective. 

 

Credence approaches him much less flamboyantly. “Hello,” he greets almost breathlessly. Graves raises an eyebrow. “Did you run?” he jokes. “Oh yeah. Look at me, total athlete.” Credence can't help but roll his eyes. 

 

“Yeah? You good at gymnastics?”

 

Credence furrows his brows.  _ What?  _

 

_ “ _ I mean, I'm flexible, if that's what you meant.” he says, trying to make it not sound like a question. Graves gives a toothy grin. “That  _ exactly _ what I meant.”

Queenie clears her throat. 

 

“Oh, um. This is Queenie, my friend, and Mister Kowalski's girlfriend. Queenie, this is-”

 

Graves leans into her ear. “I'm Graves, but don't tell your boyfriend. It's a bit of a running joke.”

 

Queenie smiles, nods. “Good to meet ya,” she says politely. “Same to you. Now, will you do me a favor?” Graves asks lowly. “Sure!” “Tell me this little devils name, please, and I'll stop teasing your husband.”

 

“ _ No _ .” Credence complains. Graves turns to him, raising his eyebrows. “Well, if it helps, today I'm using James.” “I'm definitely not a James,” Credence laughs. 

 

Queenie looks at him from around Graves’ shoulder, giving a thumbs up. Credence finds himself beaming even as Jacob sets Graves’ sandwich down. 

 

“Queen!” he cries, leaning over to kiss her. “Hey, doll. Busy day?” she asks. “Yeah, actually. You wanna help?” “Sure thing. You want something, sweetie?” she asks Credence. 

 

He's in the mood for something sweet and salty, so he asks for a sea salt caramel pastry. 

 

Luckily, Jacob has some on the cooling rack, so wraps it in plastic covering and Queenie hands it to him. “Thank you,” he says, eyeing the way Graves’ fingers wrap around a bottle of water. 

 

“You're welcome, sugar. Go on, you two take a walk,” she says, shooting him a knowing look. 

 

He stands, offering his arm first. “You wanna, um-”

 

Graves obliges, swiftly linking their arms. “Of course. Do you have to work?” “No. Do you?” “I’m head detective, I like to think I can do as I please.”

 

Credence raises an eyebrow as he pushes open the door. “A high society man, are we?” “They just owe me a shit ton of favors.” He feels Graves shrug, and hears the bitterness in his tone. He decides not to ask. 

 

“So,  _ sweetie _ , any place in particular you'd like to go?” 

 

Fighting the blush rising, Credence rolls his eyes again. “Anywhere you want.” he replies dryly. Graves smiles. “I like that. Sweetie. If you won't tell me your name, I'm gonna subject you to every affectionate name under the sun.”  

 

“Well. I guess it's only fair,” Credence amends. “Sure is, doll,” “You're a cheeky bastard.” “Part of my charm.”

 

Well. Credence can't argue with that.

 

*

 

They end up near the Hudson. 

 

He's not sure how they managed to walk this far, but he's leaning over the railing, elbow to elbow with Graves, and staring down into the murky water. 

“Y'know, I used to come by here everyday. My ma, she was really…. Adamant about coming to this part of town.”  

 

Graves looks at him curiously. “Why?”

 

“If I tell you, you'll know my name. Where's the fun in that?” he says quietly.  Graves nods once, then reaches over to push a stray curl from his face. “I'm gonna get it, you know,” he murmurs. “I have to give you props for trying.” 

 

He pushes into the slight touch like a cat, and Graves takes it as an invitation to card his fingers through his dark waves. 

 

“What can I say, I'm a determined man.” “Does that mean you don't want to have drinks with me?”

 

His voice croaks, breaks. He doesn't know why he feels vulnerable. He doesn't know if he wants the answer.

 

“Sweet boy, I'd like nothing more. But this is quite entertaining,” Graves reassures softly. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “Me too. Like, wanting it, I mean.”

 

“Mm. Good. Wanna head back?” “Why? I have no place to be but here.”  

 

Credence's heart stutters in his chest as he says it.  

 

They stay like that for another half hour before they decide to call it a day. 

 

****

 

Credence is floating on cloud nine all night and most of Thursday all because of a man who doesn't even know his name. 

 

Then said man doesn't show up to lunch.

 

His entire lunch break is spent at the counter, Jacob looking at him sympathetically. 

 

“You okay, Credence?” he asks gently. “Yeah. I guess he's busy.”

 

Of course, he's still a little disappointed, but he can understand. He'll just call him later. 

 

Then said man doesn't answer his phone that night. 

 

****

 

Friday finds him in much the same position. 

 

He asks for half the day off, and of course it's granted, because he doesn't  _ do _ that without a warranted cause. 

 

Friday also finds him stomping down to “the Precinct of all Precincts”, as Graves calls it. 

 

He scowls at the receptionist. “I'm looking for Graves.” he says with all the confidence he can muster. It's the pinched face man, he realizes. 

 

He gets a scowl in response. “What are you doin’, sniffin’ around the head detective?” “What are you doing asking me questions? What's his personal life got to do with you? Just tell him I'm here to see him.”

 

The guy-Abernathy, he reads the plaque on the desk-rolls his eyes. “Name, then?” he sighs. “Uh. Just…. Describe what I look like?” he squeaks. “I need a name.” 

 

Credence panics when he says, “Matthew. Just. Matthew?” 

 

Abernathy picks up the phone. “Detective Graves, some kid name Matthew's here to see you?” Credence can barely hear the reply. “Uh. Dark hair, skinny?” He hears a question on the other end. “Yeah, he's cute, I guess? I don't _ know _ what twink means, Graves. Just. Am I sendin’ him back or not?”

 

Slamming the phone back down, he sneers. “He'll be with you soon.”

 

_ Jesus, who is he, Christian Grey? _

 

The thought makes Credence shudder.  _ Ew.  _

 

The door to the left of the desk flies open. Graves steps out, looking discombobulated. He's not wearing his signature coat. Or vest. In fact, he's only in his white button-in, rolled up to his elbows. 

 

It's one hell of a look.

 

Credence stares a little too long at his forearms before his eyes roam upwards. 

 

“I. Um. Wanted to see if you wanted to go to lunch. Y'know.” he says awkwardly. Graves sighs loudly, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Look, kid, we just brought in-”

 

“Detective Graves!” a woman's voice calls. He scowls, turning in the doorway. “Yes,  _ Captain Picquery _ ?” Credence can practically feel the sarcasm. The faceless woman behind the door snorts, before saying, “Go take a break. You've been working for nearly an entire forty-eight hours now. Go on, Percival. Don't come back until you're fed and well-rested, got it?”

 

Graves sighs again, almost impossibly louder. “Seraphina-” “ _ Go,  _ Percival.” Seraphina, apparently, says firmly. Graves stumbles forward and the door slams shut behind him.

 

“Bitch.” he swears under his breath, finally _ looking  _ at Credence. “Well. I guess I have no choice. C'mon.”

 

His tone leaves now room for question, so Credence trails after him and out onto the busy sidewalk. “So. Percival, huh?” he asks finally, breaking into a grin. 

 

Graves looks at him with scorn. “It's funny, really. You know quite a bit about me, and I know details about you, yet, I can't tell anyone because you're fucking  _ stubborn and I don't know your name. _ ” he says dryly. “Maybe I should tell you and leave, since you're being an asshole!” Credence growls right back. 

 

Moments of silence pass before Graves grins a little. “A cat's asshole?” he asks. Credence tries to glare, he really does, but his amusement wins and he giggles. “Shut up, good Lord, you're an idiot.” he manages finally. 

 

“But seriously. I'm um, a bit on edge. I have personal ties to this case I'm working on. It's a big deal for me. I'm sorry about yesterday, and the phone call. I really have been working. I'm glad you came to find me. I hoped you were there to chew my ass out.”

 

Credence nods a little. “I understand, I do! I just. I didn't think you'd ignore me, or anything, but I wanted to make sure I hadn't screwed up. Also, I wouldn't chew your ass. That's not a part of my skill set,” he says earnestly. Graves’ slight flush makes his veins feel all warm and fuzzy. 

 

“Oh really, now?” he murmurs, holding out his arm. Credence links them together, all the while answering, “Yes. So, did you wanna guess today, or did you want me to tell you?” “Will you go out for drinks with me either way?”

 

Credence pretends to ponder this. 

 

“I s’pose I wouldn't mind,” he says finally. “Alright then, sweet boy, what's your real name?”

 

He takes a deep breath. 

 

“Bartholomew.”

 

Graves stares at him in disbelief before they both start laughing. “Jesus, kid, way to kill me. I don't think I could've taken you seriously.” he chuckles. “Actually, my real name is just as bad.” “I'll be the judge of that.”

 

“Fine. I'm Credence. Credence Barebone.”

 

This time, Graves is silent. 

 

“Second Salemer kid. I used to practically live by the Hudson. People there needed to be saved worse than others. Do you-”

 

“Yeah. I remember. I didn't work it, because child abuse isn't something my team is usually involved in, but I remember it.” Graves says quietly. “Please don't feel sorry for me. It's half the reason I wouldn't tell you, but-”

 

“You'll find, Credence, that I don't pity people. Especially not people as strong as you. Am I sorry no one was involved sooner?  _ Fuck _ yes. But do I feel sorry for you? No. You're obviously doing much better now. I'm happy for you, frankly. Really, Credence.”

 

What Credence finds is himself shuddering at the way Graves’ polished accent wraps around his name and makes it sounds beautiful. 

 

“I believe you,” he replies softly, because by some miracle, he does.  Percival Graves does not seem the pitying sort. 

 

“Good. Now, I believe I have to go devour two sandwiches to make up for lost time.”

 

*

 

Lunch passes in a blur. 

 

Before they pay, Credence notices the bags under Graves- _ no,  _ **_Call me Percival_ ** 's eyes and reaches over, cupping his hand. 

 

“You look really tired, Percival. Maybe you ought to go home, take a nap.” he suggests. Percival shrugs. “Only if you come with me.”

 

Credence feels his eyes widen. “What?” he breathes. “I don't mean-we don't have to _ do  _ anything but-” Percival cuts himself off, looking embarrassed. “We could, if you wanted. Or we could just, y'know. Nap. I don't mind.”

 

“Does that mean I won't have to pay for a ten dollar Grasshopper tonight?” “Depends.” “On?” “What it is we do.”

 

He's currently imagining sitting onPercival's face, but he doesn't say that. 

 

“You tempt me, you minx.” Percival just about growls. It heats Credence to the core. “Yeah? You don't look very tempted.” he retorts honestly. “Maybe you aren't looking hard enough.” “I'm feeling hard enough.”

 

_ Jesus, who  _ **_says_ ** _ that? Stop talking.  _

 

“Do you ever realize what you're saying before you say it?” Percival grumbles. “To be completely honest? No.” “I can tell. Fuck. C'mon, you think Kowalski'll mind if I throw a twenty down?”

 

Credence watches with amusement as the older man scrambles for his wallet and snatches the first bill he sees. 

 

“I really doubt he'd  _ mind.  _ I, however, feel like a spoiled brat whose daddy pays for everything,” he mutters. 

 

Percival looks up at him with an eyebrow raised and a slight smirk. 

 

“Perhaps you're on the right track there, my boy.”

 

It makes Credence feel all types of ways. 

 

_ “Shut up, _ ” he hisses, because like hell is he going to let Percival know what an effect he has on him. 

 

It only serves to make Percival laugh as he takes Credence's hand and pulls him along.

 

*

 

He wakes up in a penthouse overlooking Manhattan with crease marks and dried drool on his left cheek.

 

Oh, and Percival's beside him with his head stuck beneath his pillow. 

 

**_Oh_ ** _. Huh.  _

 

He recalls Percival pinning him up against the wall in the foyer and…. well. The rest is mildly bleary at the moment. He isn't really sure how they made it into the bedroom, actually. 

 

A little snore breaks him out of his thoughts. 

 

Then he notices he has no pillow. 

 

Scowling, he snatches the one over Percival's face and curls around it. The other man stirs, one eye opening slowly. 

 

“Credence.”

 

It's a warning, and it makes Credence's entire lower half heat up to hear his name in that gruff, sleep-rough voice. 

 

“Percival.” he retorts. “Would you be so kind as to give me my goddamn pillow back?” comes the growled reply. “I would not be, no.” “It's  _ mine _ , you little asshole!” “So?” “So  _ I  _ paid for it, therefore it's my right to use it!”

 

“Oh, but Mister Graves, you pay for everything. That's hardly fair, I'd say!” he teases, squeezing the pillow tightly between his thighs. “You know somethin’, Credence?” “What's that, Mister Graves?”

 

In what seems like one swift movement, Percival sits up and grabs Credence's thighs, spreading them with strong hands. 

 

“You are the  _ biggest  _ brat.” he says with a sly grin, before snatching the pillow and rolling over. “Hey!” Credence hears himself whine. 

 

He's not paying much attention anymore. 

 

Percival has a  _ great  _ ass. It'd be immoral not to grab it, really.

 

So he does. 

 

And they manage to forget about the pillow. 

 

******

 

**Two Months Later**

  
  


Credence grins as he watches Newt and Percival play with Kingsley, dragging a feather all around and watching the kitten chase it. 

 

It's been two months since he'd first caught Percival's eye in the bar, since they'd played The Name Game, as they lovingly refer to it. 

 

It's been the best two months of his life so far. 

 

A cliche? Yeah, he can admit it. He's just too happy to give a damn.

 

Queenie settles on the couch beside him, putting her hand over his. “You seem real keen, Credence,” she says fondly. “Yeah? I guess I might be.” “Can't believe it's been two months since the bank required you to wear name tags!” 

 

His smile falters. 

 

_ Oh my God. _

 

“I WAS WEARING MY NAME TAG THE  _ WHOLE TIME _ ?” he shrieks, scaring the absolute fuck out of Kingsley. Queenie laughs loudly, and Tina is having trouble breathing in her arm chair.  

 

Percival has the audacity to look sheepish. 

 

_ Yeah _ , Credence thinks, eyes narrowing into slits.  _ You better be sorry. Cat's asshole. _

 

As if he can read his mind, Percival carefully picks up Kingsley and lifts him up, before turning him ass-first. 

 

Credence doesn't ever stand a chance against this idiot and his antics.

 

He finds he doesn't mind, much. 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't elaborate on Graves' case so just assume it's mob boss Grindlewald, okay? And Credence has been away from Mary Lou long enough for recovery. He's happy. 
> 
> Anyways. Come tell me how stupid this is @ 2ndsodomites on Tumblr. Or talk to me about writing that smut fill ;)


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